Too Quiet, Not Quiet Enough

070703-1230H

I recall from Star Trek the android Data's comment on having friends to the effect that while he could not experience emotions, his neural nets grew accustomed to certain people and seemed to notice when they were not around.

If my life were sci-fi, I'd probably wind up as an adroid too.

Care, even in the negative direction--i.e., staying quiet--takes an effort relying more on logic than feeling.  In this instance, the question of where it was going got answered by interfaith marriage and the possibility of stepping mightily on one or the other partner's beliefs.

The irony of dipping into the history of terrorism and contemporary aspects of it while going through this most intimate and personal version of "my people" vs. "your people" has not escaped me.

Nothing in the United States constitution or its laws or state laws requires me to either maintain religious beliefs or pass them on to another generation.  I consider that a relief, a privilege, an honest address of the part of what goes on in our heads that lies beyond reason and relates primarily to dimensions associated with belonging, organizational loyalty, and political power. 

As one professor put it long ago, "We're a gregarious species."

There's this old statement too: "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent."

Would that John Donne's epigram would apply; however, I seem to have become some sort of island, one comfortable enough with one God and a laudable cultural heritage, but not so comfortable with the magical mystery tour that has recently seen the most pious edging backward to ritually sacrifice on the Temple Mount a lamb for Passover (reference: Nadav Shargai and Amiram Barkat, "Court nixes Passover lamb sacrifice at Temple Mount", Haaretz.com, April 3, 2007).  The sort of combined arrogance, mysticism, and provocation that makes an issue of such ritual lies beyond me.

The thought of my seeing my father's granchildren, my children, baptized and confirmed in Christ is something around which I cannot get my head, and I would guess the opposite true--the thought of developing family apart from the church--for my friend and love.  As Jews have always, I have individually become accustomed to "living apart"--i.e., to going my own way, to thinking for myself, to finding solace in my library and redemption in my arts.

I may tell you that as pleasant as it sounds, living so has its bitter moments too.

Also, there are influences apart from religion in this story: for example, there is the still marginal income that supports nonetheless this marvelous freedom that in turn discourages commitments and relationships of many kinds.  I have aged some--the circles have formed beneath my old eyes--and much of what I do, from reading on my bed to going out with a guitar to play a private party, calls for little fanfare in the absence of company.

The way's a bit lonely, of course, but that's been my life.